


Covet

by ashes0909, FestiveFerret



Series: Held [33]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Collars, Dom/sub, Feelings, Jealous Tony Stark, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 13:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11624607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Tony was not jealous.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers! We wanted to warn you that _Plot Lies Ahead_. We will be posting three parts in three days, so feel free to read as we go, wait till all of them are done, or skip this episode entirely (but don't do that, it's a good one. We promise.((We hope.))) Thank you so much for reading and enjoying this series. We love you all. ~ashes and Ferret

Tony was not jealous.

Just this morning he’d woken to Steve’s lips around his cock. He was fully hard and thrusting before he even realized it wasn’t a dream. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Steve’s pink lips stretched around him and a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

The first thing he did with his day was wrap his hand into Steve’s hair and fuck his mouth. Steve sucked harder in response, following Tony’s silent demand to pick up the pace. God, he was so good, just the right amount of suction and teeth and Tony couldn’t resist reaching down, tracing the sensitive skin where the collar usually sat. He had the idle thought of reaching for it, securing it around Steve’s neck as he came down his throat, and the image alone was enough to push him over the edge.

Steve sucked at Tony until his hand tightened in Steve’s hair, pulling him back. Then, Tony flipped them so Steve rested beneath him and the first thing he tasted was Steve’s cock when he took all of him down in one delicious swallow, deepthroating until Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head and he came down Tony’s throat.

It was a glorious start to any day. He rolled from the bed, while Steve stretched and reached for his phone.  But then Steve’s lips turned with a worried frown, and with it Tony’s day turned too. “Everything all right--?”

“Bucky’s awake.” Steve looked from the phone to Tony, eyes wide with too many emotions to name.

Tony nodded once, his stomach churning in a way that didn’t quite make sense, because Barnes waking up was a _good_ thing, at least if he was more Sergent than Winter Soldier. This was a good thing for Steve, hell it was a good thing for the country, having the Soldier out of commission. And the way Steve’s expression had brightened with a hesitant hope, biting on his lip as he blindly tugged on his shoes...Tony’s feelings didn’t matter here, and he was already reaching for his keys and wallet. “Come on, let's go.”

At the hospital, Tony waited in the hallway. The blinds to Bucky’s room were open, and he could see Barnes sitting up, looking far better than Tony had expected. He looked at Steve with a hint of a smile, wistful, like Steve was temporary. When anyone else entered the room, Bucky Barnes transformed back into the Winter Soldier, eyes hardening and fist clenching. Tony watched Steve watch it happen, face crumbling with a heartbreak that he quickly masked before Barnes could see it.

Steve met Tony’s gaze through the window, red-rimmed eyes searching, asking something Steve wouldn’t ask with words, so he asked with a hundred different micro-expressions instead. Tony nodded. Of course he nodded; Steve wanted, and how could Tony not give Steve everything he wanted?

They were taking Bucky Barnes back to the tower.

That afternoon, Tony left Steve to help Barnes get settled and he paced in the penthouse for five whole minutes before his excess energy and tornado of thoughts propelled him back out of the room. As soon as the elevator door opened onto the common room, Tony wished he had pressed the button for the workshop instead.

Natasha sat on the counter of the kitchen, legs hanging off the edge, a book in her hand. Her eyes went to him as soon as he stepped into the living room, scanning him from head to toe, extra attention on the stress in his shoulders and the black shadows under his eyes.

“Rough morning?” she asked, turning the page.

“I wouldn’t call this morning the rough part,” he mumbled under his breath, walking by her towards the coffeemaker, grabbing a fresh pot a bit too forcibly, and sloshing some over the rim.

“Where’s your Steve?” she asked, turning another page.

“He’s helping Barnes get settled.” He stared past the edge of his mug, remembering where he had left them, trailing behind as they shared some story of a “real ritz” they once knew who lived in Manhattan. It was all too much, Tony had fallen back, let them wander towards the gym without him.

Natasha finally looked up from her book, temporarily closing it over her finger. “Not acting as welcome-wagon to Steve’s pet assassin, then?”

“I’m giving them some space.” Natasha sighed in response, and Tony walked towards the window, looking over the New York skyline. A silence followed her sigh, and it weighed heavily in the room. “What?” he turned towards her again, and the wry amusement was clear on her face.

“You designed the building, Tony. No one is better equipped to give the man a tour.” She slid from the counter, joining Tony by the window.

“Steve’s handling it,” Tony replied, unable to wipe the frown from his face even though he knew Natasha would see it, would read a thousand things into it.

“And you’re upset by this,” Natasha concluded. “You usually like how he handles things.” She reminded, nudging his shoulder with her own. He knew what she was doing, trying to make him smile, make him think of something, anything, other than the fact that Steve was not at his side, at his heel, his fingertips.

“And I like how he’s handling this.”

“Yet you're frowning.”

He took a sip of his coffee, watching a bird land on a rooftop across the way. “Maybe I’d rather he be handling other things,” he admitted, with a cheeky wink. “I’ve never been good at sharing my things.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Nat said with a smirk

Tony chuckled. “Well, in the right circumstances, with the right person, it’s a different matter.”

“Is that an invitation?” Her question was teasing, but he could see the faint blush on her cheeks.

Thoughts of Natasha with Steve flooded Tony’s mind, and not a single one of them made him feel as uncertain as the wistful smile Bucky Barnes had given Steve back at the hospital.

“If you want him, order him down here.”

“Wouldn’t do it, even if I wanted to. This isn’t one of those things.” He leaned his head against the window, let it bang once, twice. “I know he’s going to be busy with this. I’m just being needy.”

Natasha raised her eyebrow. “Is that all?”

The elevator chimed again, and Natasha and Tony both turned to watch the doors open. Steve walked into the room, stopping when he realized Bucky had frozen behind him. Bucky glared at Natasha, then at Tony, then back at his feet.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was so soft, caring. His hand outstretched for Barnes to take. “It’ll be okay.” Tony’s stomach flipped.

“Just needy, huh?” he heard Nat mutter to herself.

But Natasha had no idea what she was talking about.

He was _not_ jealous.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve would never cheat.

Steve would never cheat.

Tony knew this absolutely. And it  _ would  _ be cheating because they’d had The Conversation. Steve had even been the one to initiate it. Tony knew this because he’d watched the recording of their talk after the club, perhaps several hundred times more than was necessary (if he’d watched the blow job after a few times also, well, that was nobody’s business but his own). 

After that, every time Tony said, “you’re mine,” and every time Steve said, “I’m yours,” Tony was saying, ”my only,” and Steve was saying, “only yours.” So Steve being with anyone else would be cheating. And Steve would never cheat.

It wasn’t the thought of Steve sleeping with Bucky that was making Tony’s stomach churn like a washing machine with an unbalanced load. Bizarrely - it was bizarre and awful - it was the thought that he, Tony, was the one who was stopping them.

Because Steve would never cheat, and Steve had made a promise to Tony, and Bucky had been dead. But now Bucky very much wasn’t dead anymore. He was here, in the tower, wandering Tony’s halls, eating Tony’s food, and spending all of his time with Tony’s Steve.

Tony slumped in his chair and twisted Steve’s collar between his hands, fidgeting with the places where the leather met vibranium. He let all the horrible thoughts he’d shoved in a box while they got Bucky settled, finally break free to ricochet around in his mind.

Steve and Bucky had been together during the war, maybe before. Steve didn’t talk about the war much, but over the eight months they’d been together, Tony had pieced things together. The way Steve talked about Bucky - when he talked about him at all - there was no question, he was the love of Steve’s life. 

Now he was back, and Tony couldn’t help wondering if this collar had become a cage for Steve. Steve loved him, Tony didn’t doubt that, but Tony had resigned himself to being Steve’s second love, and  _ he was okay with that.  _ But what do you do when the first comes back?

You let go, right?

Because Steve deserved to be happy - not just happy,  _ the happiest he could possibly be.  _ And maybe with Tony he was happy, but with  _ Bucky… _

And Steve would never cheat. And Steve would never walk away from Tony, unless he was properly miserable, because that’s the kind of guy he was. And that was the kind of guy Tony loved. And Tony wanted him to be happy.

But he wanted Steve to be happy with  _ him,  _ dammit. 

He tipped forward until his forehead hit the desk, the collar still wrapped around his hand. 

How could he say, “I love you, don’t leave me,” but, “if you need to, let me go”? Could Tony even say it and mean it? What if Steve thought he was saying he  _ had _ to go?

Worst of all, could Tony bear seeing them together? His fingers tightened on the collar, the leather squeaking in his grasp. If they broke - if they stopped, this wouldn’t be like the end to any normal relationship. Tony couldn’t just unfriend him on Facebook and then pretend he hadn’t noticed him when they passed each other at Starbucks. 

They lived together, they worked together, they fought together. God, how could he have screwed this up so spectacularly? It had crossed his mind that they might not make it to forever, of course it had. But it never occurred to him that he’d have to see Steve, in his own home, every day, finding happy with someone else.

He would have to see them walking down the hall hand-in-hand or curled up on the couch together watching a movie. Catch them pink and flushed, springing away from each other as the elevator doors unexpectedly opened before their floor. 

No, he couldn’t. He’d have to leave. Or ask them to leave. He could set them up in a nice apartment in Brooklyn (assuming there  _ were  _ nice apartments in Brooklyn). Or he could hole up on the island - though moving to the cabin where Steve had spent an entire week, naked and at his mercy, would be enough pathetic wallowing that Pepper would probably drag him back herself. Malibu then. The Iron Man armour could get him back to New York in minutes, if they needed him. He didn’t have to be  _ here. _

He couldn’t be here.

Movement on his computer screen pulled him out of his spiralling thoughts. His security feed had woken up: Steve, entering their apartment. He glanced at the clock. It was late, Bucky had probably gone to bed so Steve had come upstairs. 

Tony could only assume; he’d blocked JARVIS from being able to show him security feed of Bucky’s space unless it was an emergency. He didn’t want to be tempted into spying in a moment of weakness. Partly because he trusted Steve with every fibre of his being, and partly because seeing Steve light up when Bucky entered the room or smile at him like he was everything right with the world, would absolutely send him back to heavy drinking.

He needed to talk to Steve, find the right words to set him free, somehow not break down and ugly cry all over his star-spangled ass.

He needed to talk to him. Soon.

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupted. “Captain Rogers is enquiring as to whether you'll be joining him tonight, or not.” 

Tony stared at the video screen in front of him. He watched Steve pour a glass of water and pad barefoot across their apartment to gaze out the huge picture window. He was everything Tony wanted. "Tell him I'm busy, not to wait up." 

"Yes, Sir."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was definitely hiding.

Tony was definitely hiding.

Steve took a deep breath and tried not to growl when he let it out. For three days Tony had been giving him the brush-off. At first, Steve had been too busy helping Bucky get settled to notice, but by the end of the second day, when Tony failed to appear in bed yet again, it became clear: Tony was avoiding him.

Steve knew there were no Avengers contracts keeping him busy, no pressing projects. Besides, Tony’s rhythm had changed since they got together. Tony rarely binge-engineered for more than a few hours these days before he was storming into Steve’s space, either ranting maniacally about his work going well, grumbling about things not going to plan, or tearing Steve’s clothes off and pushing him onto the bed. Three days was a long time to go without Tony’s voice filling the room.

Or Tony’s cock filling his ass.

And Steve had been feeling good. Bucky was settling in well, or at least as well as could be expected. He was still jumpy around other people, but he had accepted Steve as Steve right away, even digging up some old memories for them to share. The fact that he was alive was a miracle, but alive and himself...

And it was all being ruined by one, absent engineer. 

Well, he’d indulged Tony’s little temper-tantrum - whatever it was about - for three days now and he wouldn’t anymore. If Tony wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to Tony.

“JARVIS, is Tony in the workshop?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And if I go down, is he going to let me in?”

There was a slight pause before JARVIS said, “Of course, Captain,” and Steve wondered if the AI had been asking Tony. That made him worry a little. If Tony was in one of his anti-social moods, that was one thing, but if he was mad at Steve for some reason... He frowned at their empty bed.

By the time he made it downstairs he was irritated again. They were partners now, a team, and it was up to Tony to tell him when he wasn’t happy. If he needed time, or space, that was fine, Steve could give it to him, but why couldn’t he have just said so? Instead, he had JARVIS pass notes up that he was too busy to come to bed, yet again.

Steve pushed open the workshop door, letting his anger propel him all the way across the room and to Tony’s side. Tony’s eyes stayed resolutely on his computer screen, a miserable twist to his mouth. When he said nothing, Steve took a steadying breath. “So, what’d I do?”

Tony frowned at the blueprints in front of him, opened his mouth, closed it again, then sighed, deflated. His hollow expression melted into sadness. “You didn’t do anything,” he said softly.

Steve felt all the fight go out of him in a rush. Tony stared mournfully at his keyboard and Steve’s stomach twisted. Something was really wrong. “Tony, tell me. Please?” His hand flicked towards Tony’s shoulder, but he pulled it back without touching, uncertain.

Tony turned sharply, facing Steve and meeting his eyes for the first time. He was smiling now, but it wasn’t a real smile. “I have to say a thing. And I’m going to fuck it up and say it wrong, almost certainly, so there’s that, sorry about that. But this thing. I need you to know that you can, you know, if you need to. Go, that is. I mean I won’t try to stop you. That’s a lie, I probably will. But I shouldn’t. I’m trying to not want to, I really am. Because you deserve to be happy and if it’s better if we’re not together, if you would be happier… then yeah, you should be. Free. I can let you go. I think. I’ll try.”

Steve’s head spun and his stomach churned threateningly. It was gibberish, but it was Tony gibberish, and Steve wasn’t fluent yet, but he was conversational in Tony gibberish, and he didn’t like the sound of that at all. It  _ sounded _ like Tony was trying to convince him to leave. His eyes felt hot and a tight band wound around his ribs and was rapidly getting tighter. “What are you - “ he cut off when he realized how wrecked his voice sounded. He swallowed, pushing down the hard knot in his throat and tried again. “Tony, are you telling me I should… leave you? Are you - are you trying to break up with me?” 

“No!” Tony looked temporarily panicked, then schooled his expression back into the empty smile. “Unless that would make you happier?”

“Happier than what?! I don’t understand. Why would I be happier if I left you? You’re - you’re everything to me. I don’t - I - Don’t push me away, please.“ Steve knew he was starting to sound desperate now, but his brain had hooked somewhere around “leave” and was shaking that thought around like a dog with a stuffed toy, not leaving much space for anything else.

“Steve… I’m not - “ Tony ran a tense hand through his hair, the fake smile finally fading away, but leaving pain in its wake. “I’m not pushing you away. I don’t want that. This isn’t - you’re not wearing the collar, this is just you and me, okay? I need you to know I’m not  _ telling  _ you to do anything.” Steve nodded and Tony went on. “I never want to be the reason for your unhappiness. That would kill me. Making you happy… sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing I’ve got going for me. So, the thought that I could be making you unhappy instead, that kills me.”

“I’m not unhap-” Steve started, but Tony cut him off, holding up a hand.

“Let me just. I need to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that  _ you  _ know, that if now, or ever, there’s someone who can make you happier than I can, someone you’re meant to be with, that you won’t let me stop you. Cause I love you too much for that, Steve. I can’t stand the idea that you’d feel shackled to me when your heart wanted something else.”

Movement caught Steve’s eye, and he realized Tony was holding his collar, twisting it between his fingers. Steve reached out and stilled his hands, gripping the collar with one hand between both of Tony’s. Tony fell silent, and Steve rewound and replayed his speech in his head, trying to figure out the source, the change, the - 

Bucky.

Three days. This had all started two days after Bucky had moved into the tower.

“Tony.” Steve paused, choosing his words carefully. “Are you trying to tell me that I should leave you for Bucky?”

Tony made a tiny squeaking noise, like a mouse underfoot, but he nodded. “If that would make you happy. I don’t want to be the one standing between you and your soulmate.”

And that was it. Steve couldn’t help it, he broke out laughing. 

Tony flinched back like he’d been stung, but Steve kept a firm grip on the collar which stopped Tony from moving too far.

“But you are!” Steve exclaimed, still laughing. “Tony…” His voice softened.  _ “You  _ are my soulmate. You want me to be happy? Let me be with  _ you.  _ Stop hiding, come to bed, love me back, that will make me happy. You  _ are _ standing between me and my soulmate by locking yourself down here and leaving me alone in our apartment.” He reached out and cupped his palm around Tony’s cheek. When Tony leaned into the touch, Steve dropped to his knees, shifting until he was between Tony’s thighs, held safe in the cage of his legs. 

Tony swallowed hard and ran his thumb over Steve’s cheekbone and across his lips. “But Bucky - “

Steve cut him off. “Bucky nothing. Tony, Bucky is straighter than Clint’s aim. He’s actually got a massive crush on that one barista at the corner Starbucks which is why we have to go there four times a day. Not because Bucky is fascinated by modern coffee culture, but because he’s a sucker for long hair and a big smile. Bucky is my best friend. And I thought I’d lost him so I can’t even tell you how grateful I am to have him back. But that’s what he is - my friend. Nothing else.”

Tony frowned, his eyes dropping back to the collar he still held tight. “But you were together, before, in the army.”

“No, we weren’t. I don’t - Wait. Did you think the man I talked about - the one with the colonel thing - did you think that was Bucky?”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No.” Steve watched the gears clicking in Tony’s brain.

“Oh.”

“Yeah… that was… someone else. And if you want to know more about him - or about Bucky - all you have to do is ask, but Tony? You have to  _ ask. _ You have to stop putting thoughts in my brain, assuming you know what I’m thinking. We’re both bad at that, and we’re trying, I think we’re getting better, but this? Three days.”

“I know.” Tony let out a long breath, and most of the tension came out of his shoulders as he did. “I know. I’m sorry. I got jealous, I guess. I got scared. I thought it would be easier to let you go, than watch you leave….”

“In the impossible scenario that I want to be set free from you, I’ll ask. I’ll talk to you about it. I promise. Until I do, I’m yours - no second guessing. I need to know that you have me, Tony. I - I’m not sure I can get by without you anymore. You make me feel safe. I love you.”

Tony’s hand stroked over Steve’s jaw, along his neck, then up to furrow through his hair. “I love you too.” 

“Good.” Steve nuzzled at his thigh, relief washing away the anger and doubt and fear, leaving warmth in its wake. He had missed this so much, the feel of Tony’s hands running through his hair, kneeling by his feet. It didn’t take long for his body to remember: three whole days. “Well, now that we have that settled…” Steve trailed off, runnings his hands over Tony’s thighs. He thought back to the last time they’d touched each other, that blow job he had given him the morning Bucky had woken up. Tony had taken control, wrapping his hand around Steve’s head, forcing his hips up, and Steve had let him, Steve always let him, because Steve loved it. 

But now when he unzipped Tony’s pants, Tony’s words were on his mind. This was where he wanted to be, collar or not. And he wanted Tony to know it. “I missed this, Tony.” He bent down and licked around the head of his cock. Above him, Tony’s eyes widened, gaze fixed on Steve. “I love you so much. You told me once that all I had to do to get what I want was ask, and I’m asking you right now,” he whispered, licking another line around Tony’s cock. “Trust me when I say I’m exactly where I want to be. You’re not my second choice. The collar is not what’s keeping me here.” He took the collar from where it lay forgotten in Tony’s hand and placed it gently on the nearby desk. “And we are more than one aspect of our relationship.” 

It was sincere and sentimental, and Steve wondered if Tony even understood what he was trying to say with the gesture, but his brown eyes were wide and open, and he was nodding like he finally believed Steve when he said that this was  _ exactly  _ where he wanted to be. 

Steve was hard in his own khakis, not a building need or a distraction, just a reminder that he was here, kneeling by Tony, cock in his mouth,  _ exactly _ where he should be.

Tony was his. The thought that he could doubt that, doubt them…. He sucked harder before sliding off entirely, twisting his hand around Tony's cock and forcing a moan out of him. “Where else would I want to be but here, Tony? On my knees between your legs, taking everything you want to give me.” He stroked harder, recalling Tony's words from earlier, knowing it would be quite some time until he forgot them. Above him, Tony's cheeks were flushed, his lips parted. “You think you can get rid of me that easily? I'm  _ yours _ . And I'm not going anywhere.”

It only took a few more strokes, and Tony was coming hot and quick all over Steve's face. He felt the thick stripes against his cheek, along his eyelashes, and he loved it. Tony’s chest heaved with ragged breaths. He looked down at Steve in wonder, and it made him want to preen. He fluttered his eyelashes and watched as Tony’s eyes darkened despite his orgasm, the evidence of which still covered Steve’s face.

He leaned back on his heels, so Tony could see the mess he’d made. Tony loved to watch, to see his claim on Steve. He gazed up at Tony, all sprawled out, still in his work jeans and tee, his spent cock out for the world to see; Steve did that. 

When he caught Tony’s eye again, he knew the man saw how much he liked the look of him. Tony’s hand drifted down to wipe his come from Steve’s bottom lip, to drag across his cheeks and over his eyebrow. He looked awed in a way he hadn’t ever really seen before. “I’m yours.”

“Yes, Tony.”


End file.
